


Burn Me, Clarke

by DaniJayNel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Oneshot, a lil smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniJayNel/pseuds/DaniJayNel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke makes Lexa feel many things - joy, intrigue, arousal and pain. Most of all, she makes her burn. For her touches and glances, for her breath and time. But mostly, for her love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn Me, Clarke

She had Clarke’s thighs pressed to each hip. Though they were clothed, heat still seeped through and Lexa swallowed a mouthful of air to quell the sudden rush in her veins. Her chest lifted and dropped hazardously and Clarke’s eyes watched her every move.

“We can’t do this,” Lexa whispered. Both of them could hear that she did not mean it.

“You’re right,” Clarke agreed. She leaned down, eyes never leaving the commander’s, lips parting ever so slightly. She pressed a kiss to the side of Lexa’s mouth, inhaled sharply. “We both have our duties.”

“We need to watch over our people,” Lexa agreed. She found her hands finally moving, travelling up Clarke’s back until her fingers sunk into newly cleaned blonde hair. She shuddered, inhaling.

“We can’t possibly do this when we’re at war.” Clarke’s eyes slid shut. Lexa kissed her. It was soft at first, hesitant and gentle. Despite the heat between them, Lexa was still careful. Clarke knew how very afraid she was, but her skin felt too hot and Lexa felt far too good underneath her. “We should stop,” the blonde mumbled softly.

Lexa grunted her agreement and slid her hands down to cup Clarke’s face, drawing her in more firmly, kissing her harder this time. She felt like biting, like scratching and growling, but didn’t. Instead she rubbed small circles against Clarke’s cheeks with her thumbs, humming as her lips tingled with their kiss. When she tentatively pressed her tongue to Clarke’s bottom lip, the blonde groaned and then allowed her entrance, shuddered when Lexa’s tongue slid against her own and claimed her mouth. Clarke’s own tongue followed, eager to battle, eager to dance. She wouldn’t let the commander take over so easily, so she put up a struggle, and Lexa pulled back to flick her eyes from Clarke’s down to her lips. They said no words. It didn’t matter how logical their arguments were now, they wouldn’t stop. Not for anything.

Finally allowing herself to growl, Lexa stood up from her throne and stepped towards her large bed. Clarke’s legs automatically wrapped around her waist and then they kissed again, passionately and recklessly. When Lexa reached the bed she dropped Clarke down onto it and then crawled on top of the blonde. She pressed a thigh between Clarke’s legs and shuddered at the strained moan Clarke released in response. She knew that they were both hot and needy, but she didn’t want to rush this. Didn’t want it to burn bright and flicker out a moment later. As painful as it was, she wanted this moment to singe her, to burn her alive and leave her with scars.

Clarke did that to her. Lingered and burned, no matter how hard she tried to put out the fire—now she had simply stopped trying. The fire would burn, Lexa knew, and this time she would encourage it to.

Slowly, eagerly, Lexa moved. Clarke’s head fell back as Lexa moved against her, exposing her throat, allowing the fierce Commander to press down and bite at her throbbing pulse point. Lexa used her teeth and tongue and worried a spot at the side of Clarke’s neck, all the while thrusting her hips, moving into Clarke, enjoying how the blonde writhed and moved under her, against her. She wanted more, wanted their naked skin plastered together, melting with sweat and lust. But she had Clarke in the most delicious position, and the urge to progress things wasn’t strong enough to make her stop her hips or leave Clarke’s throat.

It was for Clarke. The blonde enjoyed Lexa’s bites, the way she would soothe the new bruise with a gentle kiss after, but she burned. There was an intense throb between her legs, and it only worsened each time Lexa’s thigh rubbed against her. She need to lose the pants and she needed Lexa to take her, not tease her. So she reached up and clutched Lexa’s shoulder, moaning loudly suddenly to distract her lover, and then flipped them over in one fluid motion. Lexa didn’t make a sound as her back hit the mattress and Clarke straddled her hips, but a darkness clouded her eyes and her lips pressed together.

“What are you doing?” Lexa asked seriously, unsure of their new position, not happy with the change in control.

Clarke lifted a brow, pretending to consider it. She allowed seriousness to cloud her features, but then she grinned, lowered herself and kissed Lexa on the lips, caressed her strong jaw. “You may be Commander of the grounders,” Clarke told her. “But in here you have no control.”

Lexa opened her mouth to protest, but Clarke sat up suddenly and removed her shirt. Lexa’s words died on her lips and her eyes widened, glued to Clarke’s sweat-slicked skin. She wanted to touch, so she lifted her hands and engulfed Clarke’s hips with them. Clarke’s eyes shut for a moment, but then they flashed open, burning and passionate, searing right through Lexa’s very soul. She felt her spine tingle, the throb in her pants increase, and bit savagely into her bottom lip. Clarke watched her teeth with interest, and then she reached back and undid the clasp of her bra. It flew to the floor a moment later.

Lexa took in a deep breath. She tried to steady herself, to calm her racing heart and the adrenalin beating along her skin, but couldn’t. “You’re beautiful, Clarke,” she said, hushed and husky.

A light cloud of red dusted over the blonde’s cheeks, much to the Commander’s surprise. It made Lexa’s heart throb painfully, gleefully, just as it made the pounding between her legs worse. She lifted her hands quickly, gently trailing patterns along Clarke’s hard stomach, touching smooth skin that transformed into scars, until she reached higher and cupped full breasts capped by rosy pink nipples. Lexa felt hard points press into her palm and shivered. Clarke did the same, closing her eyes and inhaling sharply, until they opened and she covered Lexa’s hands with her own, forcing them to squeeze.

“So soft,” Lexa uttered breathlessly, eyes watching their hands.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Lexa nodded. "Very much."

Clarke chuckled, amused by Lexa's sudden trance, flattered that she could pull the commander so deeply in, hot when those hands touched her firmly, squeezed, held, caressed. Lexa released her and then lightly trailed down to the waistline of her pants, dipping the tip of a finger beneath just to tease. Lexa flicked her eyes up go Clarke's, smirked and enjoyed the irritated tick on the blonde's brow. She enjoyed the warm skin there, running her finger back and forth, making silent promises of what her fingertips could really do. Clarke quickly grew impatient and firmly took the brunette's wrist. "Stop teasing," she warned, pushing Lexa's hand into her pants, where she wanted her touches most.

The first thing Lexa felt was heat, and then slick wetness already coating Clarke's thighs, threatening to seep through. She swallowed, breaths shallow, and she looked up to meet Clarke's clouded eyes. She knew what the blonde wanted to do, what she needed, so she gave it to her and slipped a single finger inside, burying it in velvet and heat.

Clarke hissed, a low, needy sound, and then jerked her hips because Lexa hadn't started thrusting yet. "More," she demanded.  Her eyes fluttered open and softened at the flush on her grounder's face. "Please."

Lexa lifted a brow, curious about Clarke's sudden politeness, and finally began to move. She started slowly, with method and practise, and then she added a second finger, a third, and Clarke began to rock above her, grinding her hips down into Lexa's hand. The commander watched it all. Watched as Clarke took her pleasure, cried her release and came utterly undone.

For a moment Lexa wished that she could be more intimately wrapped within Clarke, surrounding by her clamping walls as they quivered, warmed and slicked as the blonde gave everything she had. Then Clarke collapsed forward, breathing hard, and Lexa winced at the ache in her wrist.

"Are you okay?" Lexa asked softly, pushing damp hair out of Clarke's face. "You nearly broke my fingers."

In her haze Clarke felt herself blush. But she ignored the comment, the embarrassment, and buried her nose in the crook of Lexa's neck. She was still clothed, but her akin smelt nice—clean, with hints of earth and wind, and a musk that could only be Lexa's unique scent. Clarke loved it, felt suddenly hot because of it, but collapsed onto her side and released a heavy breath.

"I really needed that," she told the commander. Smiling, Clarke moved closer and then intertwined her fingers with Lexa's. The commander silently watched her, content to observe and enjoy. Her clothes felt heavy, and she desired to feel Clarke naked against her, but did not feel like shifting the mood. There was still plenty of unreleased sexual tension there, especially since Lexa still thrummed with arousal, but for now she had to sate her heart. So she watched Clarke.

Clarke finally noticed the stare. As she often thought to herself—and how many had often told her—Lexa always shared a special look with her. ‘Commander Heart Eyes’ described it perfectly. No matter the occasion or situation, Lexa always found the time to stare, like a puppy, like a hungry animal, or like a thirsty survivor, so afraid of never drinking again. Clarke loved those looks. Especially since Lexa thought that she never noticed, but she always did.

"What are you staring at?"

Lexa broke from her own private thoughts and shifted. She pulled Clarke against her side and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Nothing to concern you, Clarke. How do you feel?"

"Tired," Clarke responded honestly. "But definitely still hot and bothered.”

Lexa smirked slightly. "It will not do to be selfish," she teased.

Clarke caught the hint, the playful threat, the desperate plea. She crawled on top of Lexa, and then slowly slid down her body, kissing and nipping, caressing with her fingertips and lips.

Lexa watched her, chest heaving. She made quick work of her clothes so that Clarke had no obstacle, and the blonde couldn't stop herself from admiring.

"What?" Lexa asked, curious and unsure.

"Nothing," Clarke grinned. "You're just insanely beautiful." She dipped her head down, eyes closing, lips parting.

Before pleasure touched her senses, heat burned Lexa’s heart. Clarke always did that. And Lexa always caught herself in the process of whimpering, of clutching to the blonde as they kissed and touched, to utter, to gasp and to plead—" _Burn me, Clarke_."

And she did.

 


End file.
